


The Ginger One (who looks like Bambi)

by sungabraverday



Series: Hard Times for Dreamers [3]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spy, Backstory, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-28
Updated: 2013-03-28
Packaged: 2017-12-06 13:42:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/736324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sungabraverday/pseuds/sungabraverday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combeferre dropped his head into his arms on the table. It was muffled, but he was still loud enough that Enjolras could make out his words. “Madeleine is going to kill me. Slaughter me and leave me out to dry, because his precious darling golden girl has set her eye on the most useless failure of a spy since Ernest Hemingway, and somehow I should have prevented such a disaster.”</p><p>---</p><p>He doesn't have any instinct for espionage, but Cosette took a shining to the awkward ginger, and she will see him in the ABC Agency, Enjolras and Combeferre's concerns be damned. And on her own head be it. (She doesn't have ulterior motives, of course not.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ginger One (who looks like Bambi)

The planning meeting for the third quarter was going more smoothly than expected. Enjolras and Cosette almost always had a Disagreement over logistics versus idealism at some point in the meeting, and Combeferre was left to pick up the pieces and inform Monsieur Madeleine what was probably going to happen for the next while. It was, of course, too good to be true.

“And the new kid?” Enjolras asked Combeferre. “Is he any good?”

Combeferre frowned and shook his head. “If Joly or I needed help, maybe, but we don’t, and he’s not cut out for fieldwork. Courfeyrac was right about a few things. He’s enthusiastic. He’s smart. He believes in our causes. He seems perfectly willing to accept having no contact with his family and to face risk of jail, bodily injury, or death. He does not, however, have a single inconspicuous bone in his body. I’ve never met someone quite so obviously socially awkward in my life.”

“Is this the ginger one?” Cosette asked. “Looks a bit like Bambi?”

Enjolras snorted and Combeferre rolled his eyes. “Yes, if you want to put it like that. He had his trial last weekend. I have never seen quite so obvious a shadow. I trailed him while he was supposed to be trailing Courf - he lost him three times - and he didn’t even notice. Grantaire was appalled. Said it was the worst surveillance job he’d ever seen, because Courf and I are homebodies and the kid knows my face.”

Cosette bit the inside of her lip, and Combeferre felt the beginning of a headache coming on. “Could we fix that? A bit of experience can go a long way, and it’s always dangerous to let out someone who knows we exist.”

Enjolras frowned. “I know what you’re thinking, Cosette, and you’ve got two missions lined up already. You don’t have the time to give him proper training, especially if even R was impressed at how poor his instincts for it were.”

She ignored him. “Could we, C?” 

And there it was, the Disagreement, right on time. They made for notoriously tricky waters to navigate, but Combeferre was used to it. “Possibly. If anyone could, I’m sure it would be you. I don’t know that it would be worth it, though.” It sounded tinned to his own ears - neither side was right, neither side was wrong, hedging his bets in either direction - but it was the only safe option.

“Horrible instincts,” Enjolras repeated slowly, as if hearing a fact repeated multiple times had ever changed Cosette’s opinion of anything.

Cosette turned on him, voice rising. “Oh please. Don’t give me that. It was months before Papa would let you out the house. You’re a genius, but _god_ , you like to attract attention. Instincts can be retrained. And I’ll do it, and I’ll do my missions too.”

Combeferre frowned again. “You’ve never even met him.”

She raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Are you doubting me?”

“No, I just want to know how you know who he is, or why you have your heart set on this. He’s only met Courf and I, and that was the way it was supposed to stay.”

She had the decency to blush as she went on the defensive. “I may have seen him from a window when you brought him in. He looks like Bambi; it’s memorable.”

She hadn’t denied that her heart was set on it, or offered an alternate explanation, which meant it was Combeferre’s turn to raise his eyebrows and retort sarcastically, “god forbid I get in the way of love at first sight.”

Cosette scowled and pushed her chair out in a single swift motion. “So, I have three months? Sounds lovely, thanks. I’ll go let him know, and get him started, as I gather he needs all the time he can get.”

Just before she got out the door, Combeferre yelled after her, “Just don’t forget that you’ve got your missions too! And he doesn’t have a code name yet!” 

The door slammed shut, and Combeferre dropped his head into his arms on the table. It was muffled, but he was still loud enough that Enjolras could make out his words. “Madeleine is going to kill me. Slaughter me and leave me out to dry, because his precious darling golden girl has set her eye on the most useless failure of a spy since Ernest Hemingway, and somehow I should have prevented such a disaster.”

* * *

Cosette rapped three times firmly on the door of the third room on the left of the west wing’s second floor hallway. 

The door opened a crack, and a freckled nose poked out. “Combeferre?” the Bambi-esque man asked, before catching sight of the figure in front of him. She was definitely not Combeferre. Instead, she was a pretty blond thing, maybe five foot six, and he would have said she looked like a porcelain doll were it not for her rather severe expression. 

“My name’s Cosette, actually,” she said, “and you failed your surveillance test. Dismally. So, because I hate to see someone leave without a decent chance, I’ve assumed responsibility for your training. You’ve got three months to get it right, Marius, or it’s on my head, and I do _not_ make mistakes.”

He felt like he’d been hit by a tornado, but somehow it was glorious to have the wind slap his face so cruelly. “Okay, I-” 

And then his momentary lapse of common sense was interrupted by the realisation that there was a name that was not his own in that declaration. “Wait, Marius?” 

She raised an eyebrow, and he knew instinctively that he had made a grievous mistake already, for which he would have to atone. “That’s you. Your new identity in the agency. It's too risky to know each other's real identities in an interrogation cell. Do keep up. Three months isn’t long, and you don’t have the sole claim on my time.”

And if to Marius the tornado before had been glorious, now it was terrible, the ground ripped out from underneath him. “Wait, who else does? Are there other people training?”

Her face contorted to camouflage a snicker, and if anything, he thought her more lovely, though no less fierce. “Missions. You don’t think I just stand here looking pretty?”

“No, of course not.”

“Good. We’re going to do some basic workouts, so pack a bag with your gym clothes. You’ve got-” she glanced at her watch and thought “- two minutes. I’m waiting.”

He didn’t bother to close the door, and took just a minute and a half to get ready. Cosette smiled, and he followed her footsteps down to the gym.

**Author's Note:**

> This is backstory for the ultimate espionage!AU piece which will come... eventually. Based off of [this tumblr post](http://butwordsarewind.tumblr.com/post/44998022713/les-miserables-espionage-au-in-the-foothills-of), which is also by me! 
> 
> It is also totally canon that Marius is an awful spy.


End file.
